We All Fall Down
by Miss Chant
Summary: The final battle is over between Harry and Lord Voldemort, and nothing has gone as expected. When all hope seems to be lost, one last option makes itself known. But it’s up to Harry whether or not any good can come out of it.


**Summary** - The final battle is over between Harry and Lord Voldemort, and nothing has gone as expected. When all hope seems to be lost, one last option makes itself known. But it's up to Harry whether or not any good can come out of it. 

**Disclaimer** - I don't own the characters to this story JKR does. Thanks to _Afterthoughtbtw_ for the plot bunny, and to _Lanta_ for the title.

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An outsider looking down on the scene would have described it as being one of complete carnage. Screams filled the air, effectively conveying the mood of all of the people trapped in the small and dark alleyway.

It was not exactly the most ideal of places for a battle. When Harry thought of battles, the thought of a large enclosed field or forest always sprang to mind. Bodies would be scattered on the floor, and the grass would be stained red with the blood of many men. Although horrific, the scene would always have a certain sense of honour about it, and it would be clear that the people fighting were engaged in battle solely because they had that much belief in their ideals. It some weird way it would almost be planned. Each side knowing exactly what was expected of them, what the stakes were, and what the consequences would be if they lost. They were determined people, must of them brave and willing to sacrifice everything for what they believed him.

The scene in front of him was almost the complete opposite from what he imagined a battle _should_ look like. There was no honour in the scene displayed before him. People were dying slowly and painfully all around him. And innocent people at that.

Voldemort had decided to launch his attack in one of the most public of places - Diagon Alley. It was no ideal war zone to say the least, and Harry could clearly hear people wailing in pain and suffering. They had no idea how to fight back. He doubted that even some of them didn't know how to create a proper shield around themselves. Most people were panicking, which he knew didn't exactly leave magical power at its most focussed. This could only serve to help out the Death Eaters even more. People didn't seem to know quite how to fight back, and were huddling in corners and dark spaces, hoping not to be spotted and dragged into the fray. He knew that there were Aurors and Order Members about, but even he had to admit that they were totally outnumbered. And as much as he wanted to help the people, he knew that there were more pressing matters that he had to attend to.

Harry firmly pushed his way through the crowd, casting the odd spell here and there to try and help out the civilians as best he could. The presence of the Death Eaters became ever more apparent as he fought his way through the once cheerful and bustling alleyway. He noticed the closer he got to Gringotts Bank, the more of them there seemed to be. Voldemort had obviously decided to centre his activities around that particular spot then, but why he didn't know. He could just see Bellatrix Lestrange out of the corner of his eye duelling a young Auror, a malicious expression plastered onto her face. She was obviously enjoying the pandemonium. He longed for nothing more than to fight her. To be able to strike her down with the same amount of venom which she had killed his Godfather with. However, she would have to wait. Lord Voldemort was his first and foremost priority.

A loud _crack_ suddenly caught his attention, and he whirled around, finding himself looking directly into blood red eyes.

He was careful not to let any of his surprise or fear show at the sudden entrance. It was all well and good to feel a bit nervous on the inside, but he didn't want to give Voldemort the pleasure of seeing him squirm outwardly. Taking a careful step back, Harry took a moment to compose himself, never once taking his eyes off of the man (if he could even be called that), who had succeeded in making his life a living hell.

A smirk was all he received in return. Along with a pair of cold, calculating eyes surveying him with the same amount of interest that he had always shown in the taller man. The air was thick with silence, and Harry found himself wondering why he hadn't been attacked yet. Not that he wanted it to happen by any means, but he knew that Voldemort returned the distain he felt for the other man with the same amount of passion that he did.

It was a moment before either of them moved, and it was Voldemort who flung the first spell.

_"Crucio!"_

Harry darted smartly to the side, the curse narrowly missing his right shoulder. He couldn't think of any appropriate spells right now, and he was keen to have a mind free from pain in order to collect his thoughts properly.

"We're playing the same old game Harry. I would have thought by now you'd have thought of something more….entertaining to do. Can't you even face me like a man?"

Ignoring the jibe, Harry side stepped again as another curse was hurled at him.

"Very well then. You've had your chance. _Mortuus abuto_"

A bright purple light hurtled towards him, catching him full in the chest before he even had time to react or move. He didn't even have time to, as the cure started to take affect immediately. And what a horrible effect it turned out to be. The first thing that he was aware of was pain. Unbelievable pain. It was as if every fibre of his being was slowly being burnt simultaneously to a crisp. He could focus on noting other than the pain. Couldn't even open his mouth to scream, or even start to think of a way to try and throw the spell off. It wasn't long before his mind started to go numb and he couldn't even think of the pain anymore. His last thought was a vague sense of disappointment that he had yielded so easily, before everything faded into darkness.

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**A/N** - Reviews are very much appreciated.


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